


Past and Future

by Elendiliel



Series: Lightning Strikes [20]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Post-Battle of Yavin (Star Wars), Rebel Alliance (Star Wars), Star Wars: Rebels Season 2 Spoilers, Star Wars: Rebels Season 4 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: Half a standard year after the Battle of Yavin, what passes for routine in the Rebel Alliance is mildly interrupted by the arrival of some of the Empire's oldest, most steadfast opponents, Lightning Squadron. But their service record isn't what interests Luke Skywalker - and his is far from the only thing that interests them.
Series: Lightning Strikes [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087898
Kudos: 2





	Past and Future

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Major spoilers for Seasons 2 and 4 (especially 4) of _Rebels_ ahead. Please skip this one if you wish to avoid such things.

“Come on, you’ll want to see this…”

Luke Skywalker wasn’t sure why his wingmate was so excited, but he followed him anyway. Wedge Antilles had been part of the Rebel Alliance longer than he had, and knew his way around much better, even half a year after their victory at Yavin IV. Luke now knew the ex-Imperial cadet well enough to be sure that if Wedge thought something was important or interesting, it almost certainly was.

They were headed for the landing strip outside the main hangar of their current base. It was a clear day; Luke could see the three incoming craft quite easily, holding a perfect triangular formation, echoing the shapes of the starfighters. _Those_ were unusual in themselves. Luke only knew them from history lessons, back on Tatooine, so long ago.

“Are those Delta-7s? I didn’t know any of them were still flying.”

“Delta-7Bs, I think. And there aren’t many left, but they were built to last, if they didn’t get shot down. But that’s not the good part.”

Luke and Wedge were close enough to the control station to hear the radio chatter. “Lightning Squadron, you are clear for landing. Good to have you back.”

The voice that replied was female, with a broadly Core Worlds accent lightened by a slight, unfamiliar brogue even over the comms system. “Lightning One acknowledging. Good to _be_ back.”

Lightning Squadron? Luke vaguely remembered the name from the same history lessons. Something to do with the Clone Wars? He wished he’d paid more attention to anything that wasn’t directly about ships and flying. But before he could ask Wedge about it, the engine roar from the approaching fighters had made conversation impossible.

As the ships landed, still as synchronised as three droids running exactly the same programme, some sixth sense – the one he was learning to think of as his Force-sense – kept Luke silent, eyes on the lead fighter. Its pilot was the first out of her cockpit, not waiting for a ground crew. She was quite tall, slender and striking, if not exactly beautiful, with pointed ears, red-brown hair braided down her back and very pale skin. He couldn’t see her eyes from that distance, though he could hazard a guess that she was about forty. But she had an air about her that suggested that middle age was something that happened to other people. That impression probably had something to do with the way she took the ladder steps two at a time, not looking down once, agile as a teenager and surefooted as a varactyl, before moving to help her wingmates.

Lightning Squadron weren’t the only ones arriving that day. A supply convoy followed close behind, and Luke lost sight of the newcomers in the crowd of people dealing with that. But his Force-sense was still active, directing his attention now to a gap in the throng where, sure enough, the woman and her teammates appeared, effortlessly finding spaces that seemed to open up for them.

Briefly, Luke observed that the two men flanking the woman were almost identical, a little taller than her, with powerful builds, military bearings and the same air of being younger than their physiological age (mid-sixties, he estimated). They were strangely familiar, but not as much as their leader, although Luke was quite sure he had never seen her in his life. Suddenly, he realised why. Her economy of movement, her blend of strength and grace, her quiet self-confidence and self-assurance – they reminded him of Ben. He knew what she was even before he saw the slim cylinder of durasteel and copper hanging from her belt, a different design from his or his teacher’s but recognisably a lightsabre. She was a Jedi.

Luke’s heart was racing as much as his mind. He had heard of other Jedi who had survived the Purge – Ahsoka Tano, Kanan Jarrus, and more – and the apprentices they had since trained, but hadn’t met any before. Tano, his father’s old student, had been missing, presumed dead, since a mission to Malachor had gone tragically wrong. Jarrus had been killed in the liberation of Lothal, and his padawan, Ezra Bridger, had disappeared shortly afterwards. Luke had thought he was alone, apart from his master’s erratic spirit.

Not any more. Luke watched the woman and her small team stride through the vaguely ordered chaos that was any busy hangar, waving or calling to friends occasionally, towards a destination with which they were clearly familiar. Whatever they had been doing, their debriefing was presumably imminent. But just as they approached their intended exit, the woman turned her head and locked gazes with Luke. They were just close enough for him to see that her eyes were a deep golden brown, tilted down at each corner, and as intense as his old teacher’s, if not more so. She knew who and what he was, just as he did with respect to her, and was happy about it. A broad grin started to spread across her face, halted in its tracks by one of her men (they were definitely _hers_ , Luke could tell, although he would be hard pressed to say how) reminding her that they had places to be.

“Who _are_ they?”, Luke asked Wedge as the trio disappeared towards the briefing rooms.

“Lightning Squadron. They’ve been fighting the Empire longer than almost anyone. Since it was founded, nearly. And they’re good at it. Nobody knows much about them for sure. They keep themselves to themselves. Don’t come back to base for months at a time. But it’s always good seeing them come in.”

“Their leader – she’s a Jedi?”

“Yeah, I think so. That’s why I thought you’d be interested. Like I said, they’re a secretive lot. Can’t really blame them. But that is a laser sword she’s wearing, right?”

“A lightsabre.” The correction was as absent-minded as it was automatic. “Yes. She’s strong with the Force, too. And she knew who I was, I’m sure.”

“Maybe she knew your dad.” Luke was still processing the fact that his father, Anakin Skywalker, had not been a transport pilot as he had always been told, but a Jedi Knight and a General of the Republic. If this woman had known his father, he wanted to talk to her and find out as much as he could, but he tried not to get his hopes up. There had been thousands of Jedi before the Clone Wars, after all. “Maybe.”

Half an hour later, as both pilots busied themselves with routine maintenance, Lieutenant Ematt of the intelligence division tracked Luke down to say that “a visitor” wanted a word with him. Luke tried not to let his excitement show as he was led to a meeting room that already held Senator Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, Princess Leia, C-3PO and – Luke’s eyes immediately sought them out – Lightning Squadron. The two men gave him near-identical appraising looks, but seemed to like what they found; the woman had already sized him up and come to the same conclusion, going by her warm smile.

“Thanks, Cal,” she said to Ematt. The idea of the quiet-firebrand lieutenant _having_ a nickname was odd enough, let alone that of this stranger calling him by it, but she made it work. She switched her attention to Luke, and her manner became a little more formal, without losing any of its warmth. “Koh-to-ya, Padawan Skywalker. It’s a pleasure and an honour to meet you. I’m Hel.” She caught and corrected herself. “Helli Abbasa. This is Fives, and that’s Spark.” She indicated her teammates, standing not quite to attention behind her. They really were almost identical. Fives had a tattoo on his right temple, and Spark had an old burn mark just behind his left ear, but that was about it. Twins?

“Pleased to meet you.” That was the only sentence Luke could get out in one piece. So many others were queuing up behind it that they were getting tangled up together. Most were questions.

Fives guessed one of them. “Yes, they’re unusual names, but not for us. The rest of my cadet squad were Echo, Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait.”

“When you want someone’s attention in a hurry, two syllables is about the limit,” Spark added. “And no clone I ever met wanted to be called by their number. It’s not like we’re a bunch of droids – no offence, mate.” This last was directed to R2, who seemed to think that any invitation to Luke included him, and had trundled along behind. Clearly, he and Spark knew each other, going by the binary/Basic hybrid conversation even Luke couldn’t quite follow between them, which the man had interrupted to elaborate on his friend’s point.

“You’re clones?” The question seemed redundant, but Luke couldn’t line his thoughts up any better still. He returned his attention to Abbasa. “And you’re a Jedi.”

“Believe it or not, yes.” Abbasa’s smile now could only be called mischievous. She flexed her fingers slightly, Luke felt a shift in the way the Force flowed around them (as best he had learned to sense it), and a glass of water that had been on the table flew into her hand. Half of it spilled down her arm, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“She’s always like this when we get back to base.” Spark broke off his chat with R2 again to apologise for his teammate. “It’s a relief for all of us not to have to hide what we are for a while. I’d half-forgotten what any of us used to look like, we’ve been undercover so long.” Sure enough, here and there in Abbasa’s braid and the clones’ white hair were traces of various other colours, probably dyes.

“How-?” Luke tried to ask several questions at once, not all of them fully articulated in his head, and they got stuck. They had to do with how Abbasa had survived the fall of the Republic, and how come she was still working with two of the clones who, according to everything he knew, had _killed_ so many Jedi. Behind those questions were others about his father, and Ben, and the Jedi Order, and the Force.

“Would you five like some time alone together?” Mon Mothma must have seen Luke’s predicament.

“Yes, please,” Abbasa replied, pre-empting Luke. The others left the room, and Lightning Squadron, Luke and R2 had some privacy at last.

“It’s OK, kid,” Fives said as soon as the door had shut behind C-3PO (lagging behind as usual). “Whatever you’ve heard about Jedi and clones – that doesn’t apply to us. Not any more. We found out just enough about the Emperor’s plans in time to do something about it. Only for our squad, unfortunately, but we know a few others followed our lead.” He must have seen how tense Luke was. Had he always been so perceptive, or was it to do with being around Abbasa so long?

“ _You_ found out,” his commander (that was definitely what she still was) corrected. It sounded like the familiar friendly banter Luke heard between older pilots, and glimpsed with Wedge, but there were darker undertones to it, and a shadow crossed the man’s face.

“The hard way, sadly. My best friend’s programming activated too early, while we were in the field. He killed one of our commanders. Didn’t know why; he wasn’t even really aware he’d done it. Your father – he was our legion’s commander-in-chief – made sure he got sent back to our home planet for treatment, despite the Seppies’ best efforts to stop us, and let me go along. Nobody else, apart from another Jedi and a medical droid, seemed to want to help, so I did some investigating on my own. If I’d known the Chancellor was involved, I might have been a bit more careful.”

“That’ll be the day,” Abbasa murmured, but there was affection in it. These three had been friends for over twenty years; she had earned the right to tease him. Luke wasn’t paying much attention to her, though. “You knew my father?”

“We all did.” Spark had spoken up again. “I didn’t know him that well, but he was the CO on my first operation, at the siege of Christophsis, and it’s not an experience I’ll forget any time soon. Fives was pretty much his third in command when he wasn’t with us, and Hel,” he let her finish the sentence.

“We were padawans together, more or less. He was a year older than me, and started his apprenticeship much earlier, but everyone in the Temple knew him by sight, at least. We trained together a fair few times. Fighting’s always come naturally to me, and he always wanted to improve in every respect. Then when the war came, I was nominally assigned to his legion as leader of Lightning Squadron, although in practice we generally took our orders directly from the Jedi Council, and they gave us plenty of latitude. Even so, we did work quite closely together sometimes. Come the finish, I think we could call ourselves friends.”

“What was he like?” It was a question Luke had been dying to ask. The others exchanged glances, working out who was going to speak first. Fives was chosen.

“One of the best generals I could have asked for – the other being this one.” He indicated Abbasa with a tilt of his head, eliciting a self-deprecating smile from the Jedi. “Brilliant, caring, compassionate. Reckless, sometimes, but he always got away with it. Usually because he was right in the front line with us, sharing the danger, protecting everyone around him as best he could – and he was good at that. We used to say that if there were only two ways of doing something, General Skywalker would find a third, and General Abbasa would find a fourth – and they’d both work better than the others. Any of us would have died for him, and we knew he’d do the same for us. When you’re treated like property a lot of the time, that means a great deal.”

“Not exactly a conventional general,” Spark put in, “but you couldn’t help respecting him – or liking him. One of the first things I learned at Christophsis was that with General Skywalker, you’re always on the offensive. He never stopped moving, never gave up except to save lives, and even then he’d just find another line of attack. Whether those were his orders or not.”

“He was a good man.” Abbasa put worlds of meaning into the last two words. “I don’t say that very often, but he was. He may not always have got things right, but his heart was always in the right place. And he may have played fast and loose with the Council’s orders at times, but he saved a lot of lives that way. When anyone was in trouble, especially someone he cared about – like his master, his apprentice, or your mother – he’d stop at nothing to protect them.” She must have seen that their praise was overwhelming Luke, because her smile – which hadn’t really faded – became reassuring. “From what I hear and sense, you’re very much like him. And like your mother, too, though I didn’t know her very well. By all accounts, she was just as brilliant, and just as brave.”

“Thank you.” Luke meant it. “Ben – Master Kenobi – told me a bit of that, but we didn’t get much time together before…” His voice trailed away. Even half a year later, and with his master still occasionally speaking to him, the memories of Ben’s death still hurt.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Abbasa now looked sympathetic in the literal sense of the word. “My master died when I was only just eighteen. I wasn’t even there. I kept thinking afterwards that if I had been, he might have lived. But it’s useless to go down that path. We had six years together, and I had people around me to help me cope. Help me let go, and keep him alive in my memories and my actions. Even so, it’s still painful to remember that time. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

“It is what it is. It helps that Master Kenobi isn’t exactly gone. I hear him, sometimes, in the Force.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting Abbasa to do, but it certainly wasn’t throw her head back and roar with laughter, joined at a lower volume by her friends. “The cunning old beggar! I might have known. If anyone could maintain their individuality after death, he certainly could. I wouldn’t put _anything_ past him.” She pulled herself together with an effort. “I’m glad you still have a teacher of sorts. A child of the Force growing up alone – that never ends well. I was considering offering to teach you myself, but I’m already rushed off my feet with six apprentices and a full-time job.”

“ _Six_?” That sounded like a lot of responsibility. And, as far as Luke understood such things, against the rules.

“Yes. It’s a long story. And a bit more manageable now that they’re grown up. They’re their own unit now – Thunder Squadron. With any luck you’ll get to meet them soon. I think you’ll like each other.”

“I hope so. I was starting to think I was the last of the Jedi.”

“Oh, I do hope not. A galaxy without Jedi, or something similar, doesn’t bear thinking about.” She shook her head slightly, as though to clear it. “Enough of the future. And _definitely_ enough of the past. The present is what matters. We have a few days here before our next mission, and I understand you’re in the same position. Would you be up for some sparring practice?”

“Definitely. I haven’t really had the chance to practise with anyone else for a while.”

“Brace yourself,” Fives warned. “In all the years I’ve known Hel, she’s never lost a sparring match.”

“Because she doesn’t know when to quit,” Spark clarified.

“I do. When I win, or when that is mathematically impossible. Not before.” Well, that explained why they were still fighting. As long as they thought they had a chance, they would carry on. They were the Rebellion in miniature. Luke trailed after the still-bickering trio towards the training hall, R2 following. Only then did it occur to him to wonder how the droid and the clone knew each other. There was a lot about R2’s past he didn’t know. There was a lot of the past in general about which he wanted, or needed, to know. Lightning Squadron had provided some answers, but not enough. And the future still looked uncertain, even knowing that there were other Jedi out there. He shook himself mentally. As Abbasa had said, neither past nor future mattered half so much as the present.


End file.
